


flowers ❀; reddie

by fucktherules



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No IT (King), Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I felt soft, I'm posting this on wattpad right now, M/M, POV Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Stephen King's IT References, This is cringe, leave me alone, more espresso less depresso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-11-02 12:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucktherules/pseuds/fucktherules
Summary: soft! soft! soft! soft! soft!a short (oneshot?) AU i wrote a couple months ago, and am currently posting on wattpad. yup, i am @/peachyreddie on wattpad.it's kind of cringe, and cliche, but i don't mind.reddie is reddie.(warning: use of f-slur.)





	flowers ❀; reddie

**Author's Note:**

> (no caps intended, i was lazy)
> 
> grammar is probably awful, on wattpad it's a sentece-per-chapter kind of thing so it didn't really matter. anyways,,,

flower boy was pretty.  
  
really pretty.  
  
i saw him every day, starting from the summer of 1989. i was 16, just trudging along, living my boring and not-so-peaceful life.  
  
he’d walk outside my house clutching flowers in his hands at around 6pm every evening.  
  
i couldn’t see much through the grimy window, but i could tell he was beautiful.  
  
i watched him. not in a creepy way, of course.  
  
he wore short shorts and oversized shirts and sweaters, and always carried a fanny pack.  
  
i wondered how i’d never seen the flower boy before.  
  
everyone went to the same school, i mean, derry is a small town  
  
i thought that maybe he was homeschooled, like mike  
  
he walked past everyday, without fail  
  
i sat at my window everyday, without fail  
one day he saw a flower almost as pretty as him  
  
i watched him reach forward to pick it and heard a quiet crack as the stalk snapped  
  
then the grouchy old lady who grew the flowers stepped outside her house, and angry words left her mouth and the flower boy cowered away. poor guy.  
  
i rushed downstairs and the alcohol scent hit my nostrils.  
  
i ignored it. i was used to it.  
  
my parents didn’t care much about me.  
  
i didn’t bother them, so they didn’t bother me.  
  
a mutual agreement.  
  
i slammed the front door open and walked over to flower boy.  
  
//  
  
the old lady was gone. thank god.  
  
i walked over to him, patting my dirty ripped jeans down, hoping i didn’t look a total mess  
i stood beside him for a moment and took a proper look at him.  
  
he had soft, brown curls that framed his tan face beautifully, pink lips, and when i looked closely i could see a spattering of freckles across his button nose  
  
he sniffled and looked up, not speaking,  
  
those eyes.. wow.  
  
beautiful, i thought  
  
he looked down, and i watched his cheeks turn a dusty pink.  
  
i felt the heat rise in my cheeks when i realised i’d spoken out loud  
  
what? me, richie **trashmouth** tozier blushing? no, there must have been a mistake.  
  
i asked him if he was okay and i got a nod and a smile back  
  
dimples? he had _dimples_??  
  
_shit_, i thought, _i've known him for two minutes and i’m already whipped._

and that was the start of everything.  
//  
  
he came back every day at six in the evening for the next six weeks  
  
i asked his name on the eighth day of this.  
  
“eddie. eddie kaspbrak. what’s yours?”  
  
i was speechless for a moment there.  
his voice was soft but stern but high pitched at the same time, carried lazily by the cool summer air.  
  
he tapped me on the shoulder and i jumped slightly. “r- richie tozier. but you can call me da-“  
  
he giggled and pushed me slightly,  
“don’t be gross, ‘chee,” his words merging slightly causing him to easily slip past the first half of my name.  
  
i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. he's gotta be an angel.  
an adorable one, too, i thought.  
  
i would watch him cross the road to make sure he was okay, and then he’d be gone again.  
  
one day after school, me and my friend bev were hanging out.  
  
“hey, bev?”  
  
“yeah?”  
  
“there’s this boy,”  
  
she smirked at me, raising one eye brow, and stupid me blurted out everything.  
  
i inwardly facepalmed. i’m an idiot.  
  
“... and his hair. it’s curly and it looks so soft and i want to touch it, and oh, oh his _eyes_ are gorgeous and they’re beautiful and-“  
  
“shut up, lover boy. i’ve had enough sappiness.  
trashmouth is soft for someoneeee!”  
  
“i dunno, i wasn’t so soft when i saw your mom last night”  
  
(_trashmouth_)  
  
“beep beep, richie,” she muttered, accompanied with a small smile and an eye roll.  
  
the next day in maths i spoke to bill. i probably should've been paying attention to the circles or whatever, but who cares?  
  
“what’s it like to love someone?”  
  
i didn’t mean to say that.  
damn it.  
  
you can't love someone after six weeks of knowing them, richie.  
  
he said nothing for a while, just raised a skeptical eyebrow before opening his mouth and saying, “w- well. the duh- definition of luh- love is-“  
  
“no no, no, i mean, what’s it like. you’ve felt it before. i know who, as well,”  
i winked at him.  
  
his face darkened and he told me to shut up.  
i just smirked.  
  
“yuh- you got your eyes on someone?”  
  
huh? what?  
  
“nooooo,” i denied, sounding like an idiot.  
way to go, _richard_.  
  
he paused. “w- well. luh- love is w- whatever you want i- it to be, i guess. it’s yuh- yours to make it. it could be hugs and kisses or f- flowers or-”  
  
the image of flower boy swam silently into my mind, blocking out bills stuttering, and i sighed, quickly tuning back into the conversation.  
  
"juh- georgie once told me that luh-love is when a puppy licks your face. i l- laughed at that. but then he said, 'even after you left it a-alone all day'. and that's suh-stuck with me for a long time. but me.. i think love is whatever you want it to be."  
  
huh. he hardly stuttered.  
  
i didn't really get what he meant, but i shrugged and thank him in my best british accent. he just rolled his eyes, shaking his head and smiling in that older sibling way.  
  
all my other friends- stan, mike, and ben- said pretty much the exact same.  
  
i was soft for the damn boy.  
  
bev was right,  
of course she was.  
  
she always is.  
  
//  
  
he came back, week after week. i figured out his favourite flowers were roses. he even had a rose chapstick.  
  
we sat in the park just by my house sometimes, and would pick the daisies on the grass.  
  
he was quiet.  
  
or so i thought.  
  
once, i told a classic ‘your mom’ joke- i know you all love them- and he replied with a  
“that’s fucking disgusting, chee,” accompanied with a small smirk.  
  
i was stunned for a few seconds there, until he said he had to go.  
  
_(he swore? must’ve been rubbing off on him.)_  
  
  
the next day, he came back again (of course) and we sat under the big tree at the park.  
no one could see us.  
  
i remember that day- he was wearing a pastel blue sweater, which was sliding off his slim frame and exposing his shoulder.  
  
that day was a cool, clear day. i was caught up in counting his freckles while he played with the grass. i got to about fifty, before i took off my glasses to rub at my eyes -hayfever- when i noticed a dark purple bruise blooming just above his collarbone.  
  
“someone’s been marking you up good, eds. who’s the lucky girl?”  
  
no reply, he just looked down slightly.  
  
smirking slightly, yet slightly jealous (though i’d never admit that to anyone), i let my hand reach out and trace it with calloused fingertips sore from playing my old guitar.  
  
he winced slightly and i drew my hand back.  
“that’s.. that’s not a hickey. is it?” i put my glasses back on, and sure enough, it was a bigger mark than i had thought- where someone had hit him.  
  
silence.  
  
he shook his head slightly, before standing up and saying “i’ve gotta go, ‘chee," kissing my cheek and leaving me in dumbfounded silence.  
  
the next evening, we sat under the same tree. the sun brought out a golden undertone in his curls that i’d never noticed before.  
  
i said nothing about the bruise from yesterday, but i saw another one on his wrist.  
  
the next day, it had faded slightly.  
  
it went on for a couple weeks- they would come and go.  
  
once, we had been messing about in the grass, and i had pinned him down, tickling him relentlessly.  
that’s how i discovered what was in the fanny pack.  
  
“stop,” he gasped, “stop!”  
  
i drew back quickly and he shuffled to sit up and with fumbling fingers tried to unzip the fanny pack.  
  
i reached out and did it for him, confused, and he reached into the overstuffed bag and pulled out a blue inhaler, another one toppling out over it.  
  
he put it in his mouth and inhaled deeply.  
i watched.  
  
“i have asthma,” he explained  
“really? couldn’t have guessed!”  
he giggled and my cheeks flushed.  
  
“here, take this,” he said, handing me the other inhaler i had spotted.  
i looked at it, confused as to why i needed an inhaler, and he said  
“in case it happens again. you know. while i’m with you.”  
  
(he wants to spend time with me)  
  
we both stood up, and he reached his hands out expectantly.  
  
i pulled him into a bear hug, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he stood on his tip toes and curled his arms around my neck, our cheeks brushing.  
  
i hoped he couldn’t feel the flustered heat radiating off my cheeks  
  
“see you tomorrow,” i whispered into his ear.  
i swear i felt him shiver before he giggled and skipped away, his fannypack bouncing on his hip.  
  
i stood and stared at the space he was for a full ten minutes, the sky darkening behind me.  
  
//  
  
two weeks later, i sat by the tree again.  
i had picked all the daisies on the overgrown grass and spent an hour making a flower crown.  
  
i finished just on time for flower boys arrival. it was messy- my clumsy fingers had ripped a couple petals- but i didn’t think eddie would mind.  
  
i waited on the front lawn-  
six pm  
ten past six  
twenty past...  
...half past.  
  
by the time it got to twenty to seven, i sighed sadly and pulled myself up from the scratchy grass, ready to go back home, when i saw him.  
  
he was running- well stumbling- and i heard a dry sob. i threw the flower crown to the grass.  
  
tripping slightly on my way to him, i pulled the extra inhaler he had trusted me with out of my jacket pocket, placing it between his pink lips and pushing the trigger.  
  
his breathing slowed but the sobs only got louder and real tears started.  
  
i can’t deal with crying people, i’m absolutely clueless.  
  
i saw a red mark on his cheek and a small trickle of blood tracking down from his nose and collecting above his top lip.  
  
i heard a scuffle somewhere behind me and turned around.  
  
i smelled a strong cigarette scent, and i swear i could feel my skin crawling. i like being dramatic.  
  
a figure came into view- it was blurry, my glasses were slipping, fumbling fingers rushing to push them up- and when it came into focus, i saw henry bowers.

"who did this to you, eds? was it him? is he the one giving you the brusies?"  
  
"don't call me that," he glared up at me defiantly.  
  
it was cute, not gonna lie, but we didn’t have time for shameless flirting, so i stared him down.  
"y-yeah. it was him."  
  
"just now?" i asked.  
"yeah. just around the corner. a police car drove past and he let me go," he sniffled quietly. "i think it was his dad."  
  
bowers had given me trouble for years when i was younger. said lots of stuff.  
  
that was until mike gave him something to remember. he came into school the next day looking pretty shaken.  
  
he had pushed past me, muttering _“too bad i can’t push you about anymore, fag.”_  
  
mike beat his ass for me, so now i’ll do the same for eddie.  
  
he had been walking up to us as we spoke, and he was standing in front of us now. “hey, girly boy. this your boyfriend? is he gonna protect you?” he crowed.  
again, i like being dramatic, but it was as if i could _hear _everything he had named me and made fun of me for, and it only made me angrier.  
  
_(“too bad i can’t push you about anymore, fag.”)_  
  
i stood in front of eddie and glared at him.  
  
“die, asshole,” i hissed before leaning forward and being pinned down by him.  
  
_ ("get your queer ass out of my town")_  
  
“i’m gonna kill you. and your girly boyfriend.”  
  
mentioning eddie probably wasn’t a great idea on his behalf.  
  
“now you’re really going to die, fucker.”  
  
he got in a few punches but overall he didn’t look too good by the time i’d pinned him to the ground.  
  
then i was an idiot and loosened my grip, and he flipped us over  
  
i felt his hot breath on my neck, he let out a low grunt and my first thought was (he’s one to talk about being a ‘fag’, and almost laughed out loud before i felt his fingernails dig into my arm, probably drawing blood.  
  
“i’m being serious now, you're dead,” he said before i heard a loud screech.  
  
_("i'll kill you and your girly boyfriend)_  
  
i hadn’t noticed eddie until he screamed and came forward and kicked henry’s head.  
  
he held his inhaler in his right hand and his hair was messed up.  
  
pretty hot, not gonna lie.  
just kidding, just _kidding_\- nah, he looked hot.  
  
henry was knocked half unconscious on the ground next to me and i stood up.  
  
“bye, asshole,” i growled. “don’t. ever. touch. him. again.”  
  
henry groaned and scrambled away, muttering underneath his breath.  
  
//  
  
“that was pretty badass, eds.”  
  
in the darkening sky i gazed at his freckled face. he had wiped the blood away and.. patched himself up while i was fighting? asshole, i thought affectionately.  
  
i pulled him in for a hug.  
  
my chin rested on his curls and he buried his face into my chest.  
  
he pulled back first and took one glance at me before gasping out a "we've gotta get you cleaned up! take me to your house!"  
  
"wow, pretty eager, aren't we, princess?" i smirked  
  
it took a moment of eddie staring at me, his mouth forming a perfect 'o' while i realised my mistake  
  
"i- i'm sorr-"  
"no, no, i liked it," he mumbled, ducking his head.  
  
i smirked and opened my mouth, ready to say something else when he cut me off with "now take me to your house."  
  
i quickly ran over to the grass again, picking up the flower crown and speed walking back. i placed it on his head and his already red tinted cheeks darkened a few shades.  
  
five minutes later, we were climbing into my bedroom through my window and stumbling over to the bathroom as quietly as possible.  
  
i sat on the closed toilet seat and he opened his second fannypack  
(yes, his second)  
and started disinfecting a cut above my eyebrow.  
  
he couldn't properly reach it so i spread my legs apart (oh, yes, i am a hoe, and i know it ;) a/n IM SORRY) so he could step in between them.  
  
i didn't know what to do with my hands, so i settled with playing with the tear on my jeans.  
  
i accidentally tapped his leg and he inhaled sharply, looking down and taking in my bruised, dirty knuckles. he immediately dropped whatever he was doing with my eyebrow and moved to grabbing a wetwipe.  
  
when he took my hand, it was my turn to gasp quietly.  
he cleaned my hands slowly. he was doing it on purpose, i think. i tried not to roll my eyes.  
  
when he was done, i released a breath i didn't realise i was holding.  
  
he looked into my eyes for a moment before muttering "i- i gotta clean your.. uh.."  
my fingertips traced the swollen cut next to my mouth and i softly said "it's okay."  
  
he smiled slightly and i took it a step further, dropping my hands onto his waist. i felt him tense up before relaxing.  
  
i felt his fingertips trace the side of my lip and it was my turn to tense. he cleaned off the cut and i winced slightly. he stared at me with those honey eyes.  
  
i don't know who did it first, but we were both leaning in,  
  
and suddenly i could taste his stupid rose flavoured chapstick and something sweet lingering in the background.  
  
we seemed to fit together perfectly, although our noses bumped a few times, and i pulled him closer by the waist.  
  
he pushed against my lips harder and took charge. it was shocking, not gonna lie.  
  
i liked this eddie, though.  
  
he nipped at my bottom lip, whining a little, before pulling away and staring at me intensely.  
  
i instinctively pushed a stray curl off his forehead and his cheeks were painted red all over again.  
i remember my conversation with bill.  
  
_("love is whatever you want it to be.")_  
  
and i finally get what he means.  
  
i pull eddie closer and quietly whisper  
"i love you."  
  
i didn't think he heard until a moment later, i hear  
  
"i love you too."  
  
and i feel at peace, just then.  
  
love is whatever you want it to be, and i guess i've made it eddie.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, if you actually read this. i appreciate it. it's not my best work, i wrote it at maybe 4am running on coffee- more espresso, less despresso, am i right??
> 
> -C x


End file.
